The Twelve Dancing Princesses
by ZeGabz
Summary: AU: A king had twelve daughters, each equal in beauty and spirit. Each night, they would disappear and return with worn out dancing shoes. In a land where music has been outlawed, it might just take a pirate to solve the mystery of the twelve dancing princesses. But can he fight his growing attraction to the eldest princess long enough to overcome her cunning?


**A/N: Well, this AU has been a long time coming. It all started with a collection of photosets and then turned into this monster of a oneshot! Regardless, I hope you all enjoy!**

**Here's a guide to the Princesses for you:**

**Emma- age 28**

**Astrid- age 27**

**Snow & Ruby- ages 26**

**Belle- age 25**

**Aurora & Abigail & Jacqueline- age 21**

**Mulan- age 21**

**Ella- age 16**

**Grace- age 12**

**Gretel- age 10**

* * *

"Emma? Emma, are you even listening to me?"

Startled from her sleepy daze, Emma blinks rapidly, her foggy vision clearing to reveal the image of her father sitting at the opposite end of the table, looking extremely frustrated. On his left side, Grace lets out a small giggle and across from her, Gretel follows suit.

"I'm sorry, father," Emma replies formally, exchanging an amused glance with Belle. This does not go unnoticed by the King, who glances between the two girls with a frown. Astrid kicks her gently under the table, but she pays no heed to the scolding action. "I'm just tired."

"I am well aware of tired you are," the King replies, "It might help if you actually slept at night." Emma's eyebrows rise in a flawlessly innocent expression, one that she has mastered after years of practice.

"But Father, we _do_ sleep at night," Emma replies, blinking.

"You lock our door yourself," Jack adds.

"If your mother was here . . ." the King mutters under his breath, rising. "Another man is coming to court today to investigate the twelve of you. I expect all of you to be present and to treat him well during his stay."

"Yes, Father," the twelve all say in unison, rising and curtsying as he exits the dining hall. As soon as he is out of earshot, Ruby shuts the door and the girls all sit back down, continuing to eat.

"Father means well, you know," Snow says to Emma, "Perhaps we should just tell him where we've been going."

"And have him forbid us from returning?" challenges Abigail, "You know he would not approve."

"But he's so sad," Gretel interjects in a small voice.

"Maybe we should try to be kinder to him," Grace adds with a pointed glance at Emma, who snorts.

"He hasn't taken Mother's death well," Aurora murmurs.

"Yes, and obviously banning dancing, balls, and anything enjoyable is a healthy way of dealing with loss!" Emma snaps. Aurora shrinks back, and she sighs. "I'm sorry. Mother's death has been hard on all of us. But she loved music so much, and dancing . . ."

"This is the only way we know how to keep her with us," Mulan finishes, her eyes downcast.

"I rest my case," Emma says, "Now let's get ready for court." Her tone leaves no room for argument.

"I wonder who it is," Grace ponders as the girls shuffle towards the doors.

"It doesn't matter," Emma snorts, "He'll be no different than the others."

* * *

That afternoon, the twelve girls line up behind their father's throne, eyes downcast and hands folded in their laps. The people in court are all murmuring to each other in hushed tones, wondering which man will next be sentencing himself to death.

"Are you ever going to tell them that the men are just sent to Wonderland?" Emma asks, sitting on the armrest of her father's throne. He chuckles.

"You lower the stakes and you also lower the standards, my daughter," he replies with a chuckle, "What the court does not know will not hurt them." She grins at that, standing as the trumpets blare, announcing the latest fool.

He is brought in cuffed, much to Emma's surprise. He is dressed unlike many of the other men who have entered her court, hoping to solve her mystery. He wears a loose-fitting black shirt that cannot hide his well-built physique, especially considering the stranger didn't bother to start buttoning it until it was halfway down his chest. But what amuses her the most, and apparently her sisters as she hears a giggle escape from Ella, are his leather pants. They fit him snugly, and he is unabashed by the . . . fascinating view it offers. The guards throw him to the ground onto his knees, and he raises his head.

Their gazes meet.

He smirks.

She rolls her eyes.

And suddenly she feels as if the next three days are going to be unbearable.

* * *

"Killian Jones," Emma says, testing out the feeling of his name on her tongue. "Strange name." She sits near Ruby's bed, where she, Snow, and Ella have already begun gushing about their newest suitor of sorts.

"Sounds like a pirate name," Ella says excitedly.

"And did you see the hook on his hand? He must be a warrior, so brave," Snow says with a laugh. Emma snorts.

"As if you have eyes for anyone but that charming Prince you met at the banquet last year," she teases. Snow blushes, and Emma and Ruby share an amused glance.

"I can't see why you're so obsessed with the man," Abigail pipes up from her bed, where she and Aurora are working on a puzzle. "He's not even that attractive."

"Oh, and Fredrich is?" Snow shoots back good-naturedly, throwing a pillow towards Abigail, who catches it with a laugh and throws it to Jack, who throws it at Belle, who is startled from her book.

"Maybe you should look for more in men than just good lucks," she says, putting the pillow behind her head and leaning back. "Then you'll know your love is true." Ruby laughs.

"The day you follow up on all of your wisdom will be very entertaining indeed," she says with a grin. "Who knows, if you can find yourself an ugly man with a good heart maybe I can find . . ."

"Peter?" Grace offers, "The new kitchen boy?"

"Please, I'd eat the poor boy alive," Ruby says offhandedly, although Emma doesn't miss the faint blush that taints her cheeks.

"So Emma, how are we going to deal with him?" Jack asks, "He's not just an air-headed knight or some arrogant nobleman."

"Oh, he's arrogant all right," Emma huffs, "But he's not like anyone we've had before. He's clever, and a pirate."

"And he only has eyes for you," Mulan points out, "Maybe we can use that to our advantage." Emma's eyebrows shoot up.

"What?"

"Are you blind?" Astrid asks with a laugh, "He never stopped staring at you for the entirety of court."

"And how exactly does his infatuation help us?" Emma challenges, "If anything, it will only make him more determined to solve the mystery."

"So why should we stop him?" Gretel asks, speaking for the first time. "I mean, he l-likes you, Emma, and he is handsome, so-"

"Gretel," Emma interrupts, "Come here." She kneels to the floor as Gretel hops off of her bed and comes to stand in front of her. She takes her sister's shoulders in her hands and looks her squarely in the eye. "I will never marry a man who thinks he can win himself love through a contest. And I don't ever want any of you to think there is anything okay with the idea. Father put it in place trying to bring forward the best of the kingdom, but he only attracted the worst. And until I meet a man who will never leave me . . ."

"Like Baelfire?" Emma shuts her eyes in pain and nods. Poor, naive Gretel.

"Yes, like Bae. Until I meet someone who is more faithful than he was . . . I will never marry. Understand?" Gretel nods.

"If he's a pirate, can't he pick locks?" Ella asks, "What if he gets into our room and discovers the wardrobe?" Emma purses her lips, deep in thought.

"Poppies," Mulan whispers, a grin illuminating her face.

"Hm?" Aurora questions. Mulan jumps up.

"Powder from poppies!" she exclaims, "Mother taught me how to make it from the magical poppies she grew in our garden when she first brought me here."

"What does it do?" Grace asks.

"It will put him to sleep for a long time," Snow murmurs, catching on, "That way he will not be able to investigate!" Emma jumps up as well, running over to Mulan and enveloping her in a hug.

"Genius!" she exclaims excitedly, "Just perfect! Will you be able to make some before lunch tomorrow?"

"Of course!" Mulan says, "Why before lunch?"

Emma winks. "I doubt our new friend will want to eat his lunch alone," she says, slipping into her dancing shoes. "Now, how about a celebration of this new plan?"

* * *

The next morning, Killian Jones is invited to a private breakfast with the King and his daughters. Mulan is mysteriously absent. Upon questioning from her father, Emma tells him that Mulan was going for a walk in Eva's gardens, which wasn't much of a lie . . .

Killian remains silent for a majority of the meal, watching all twelve girls with interest as they evade questions from the King. Not liking the expression he's wearing, Emma decides to change the topic of conversation.

"So Killian Jones, what did you say your profession was?" she asks.

"I didn't, love," he replies with ease. She arches an eyebrow, leaning towards him.

"And, ah, how did you get that hook?"

"Story for after I solve your little mystery love," he breathes, unaffected by her close proximity. "I was told you could be quite the blunt little minx."

Eyes widening slightly, Emma leans in closer. "And who told you that?" Jones merely winks at her.

"We all have our secrets," he whispers, "Wouldn't you agree, Princess?" Emma leans back wordlessly.

"I would."

* * *

After breakfast, Jones returns to the temporary quarters granted to him by the King for his three days. Emma meets with Mulan, who discreetly slips her a small bad full of poppy powder, before heading to the kitchen, where Peter is preparing to bring Killian his lunch. Emma tells him that she will gladly take care of the chore, hinting that Ruby is out near the gates, which swiftly gets rid of him.

She mixes the poppy powder into his glass of wine and, for good measure, sprinkles the remainder onto his meal before setting off towards his room.

When she arrives she glances at her reflection in a nearby window, setting his meal down briefly so that she could tug down the neckline of her dress a bit and let down her hair until it rolls off of her shoulders in messy waves. She's certainly not above using her beauty to make her marks more . . . agreeable.

Picking up his lunch again, she knocks on the door.

"Come in," echoes his muffled voice, and Emma enters the room, putting on what she hopes is an alluring expression. Jones is seated at a chair near a window, his face illuminated by sharp shadows as he stares out at the comings and goings of the palace servants. He glances up upon hearing the soft sound of her footsteps, eyebrows raising in surprise upon beholding his server. "I was hoping it would be you," he says with a wink. Emma allows herself an eye roll before slipping back into the role of seductress.

"Hm," she breathes, pulling up a chair across from him and setting his lunch down on a small table, which she then pulls to set between them.

"Tell me this, Princess- did your father send you, or did you volunteer?" he asks, not even glancing at his food.

"Does it matter?" she questions. He glances at his wine, and then back up at her, his eyes probing. She keeps a poker face, not fond of the way he's studying her. He cannot know what she's planning. Damn pirate.

"I suppose it doesn't," he finally says in a dismissing tone, taking her by surprise. "I hope you sleep well tonight, Princess."

She stands, curtsying without breaking eye contact. "Happy hunting, Hook."

"Hook?" She arches an eyebrow and glances down at his substitute for a hand, which makes him laugh. "Well, that is certainly a fascinating moniker." She smirks.

"Until tomorrow," Emma says, turning to leave.

"Princess!" She turns, almost at the door. "There should be a 'Captain' in there somewhere."

Killian allows himself to watch her leave, and oh yes, the princess certainly does look fantastic walking away from him. He takes one glance at the lunch she has brought him, however, and promptly pushes it aside. He glances back at the hook on his hand.

The price he had to pay to come here. The price Rumpelstiltskin demanded in exchange for information on how to solve the mystery of the worn out dancing shoes. It's ironic that Princess Emma would notice it before anything else.

"_Eat nothing given to you by one of the princesses. Drink no wine they give."_

He runs his finger over the crust of his bread, lips pursing when he lifts up the finger to find a powdery substance on it. He brings it up to his nose and inhales gently.

Poppy powder.

"Nice try, Princess," he murmurs with a smirk. Glancing over at the cloak given to him by Rumpelstiltskin with the promise of invisibility, he decides then and there to not only win the game Princess Emma has started, but to win her heart as well.

* * *

That night, Killian slips out of his room in the cloak and lingers in the castle's corridors as each of the princesses file into their room, being checked off by their father. He considers attempting to enter then and there, but he thinks better of it when he realizes the girls will still have to change. He is, after all, a gentleman.

Emma lingers in the hallway to talk to her father, and Killian allows his gaze to come to rest on her. Truly, from the moment he set foot in court, he has been bewitched by her. She's not like her other sisters. Astrid's heart belongs to someone else. Snow is beautiful, to be sure, but she is also too pure to be bothered with him. Ruby, ever the flirt, clearly has no desire for marriage or ruling a kingdom. Belle seems too caught up in her books to be interested in men at all, and Abigail and Jacqueline seem like snobs. Aurora bores him, and he has a feeling that if he even tried courting Mulan, she would chop his head off.

Emma, infuriating Emma, is a new species of royalty.

She carries herself with regality and class, but her eyes contain a spark that can only be recognized by a pirate. She doesn't act like any other princess he's met either- while many are bubbly and vivacious, she has no need to be. From what he's heard, she is also an excellent swordsman, and never asks her servants to do things she can do for herself.

She also does not swoon over him like some of her sisters did. She certainly turns on the charm around him, but only as a mean to an end. She plays his game and plays it well, obviously having no problem with messing with his head. She's a natural leader, filling the role her mother left vacant with grace and ease.

He's in awe of her, this princess. And in their game, he knows that the only way to hear heart is in winning.

Emma finally kisses the King good night and enters the room. The King pulls out a key and locks the door, sighing sadly before shaking his head and walking away. For a few minutes, Killian listens tot he muffled sounds of their voices, occasionally hearing his own name mentioned, but never by a voice sounding like Emma's.

When the voices begin to fade, but not disappear, he frowns. The girls should be asleep by now. Suspicious, Killian pulls out a pin and begins to pick the lock.

* * *

"He should be fast asleep by now," Emma says with a satisfied smirk. "He was like putty in my hands." Ella laughs in delight.

"Oh Emma, you are so lucky to have been able to be alone with him! Is he as attractive up close as he is from the other side of the table?"

"You're pathetic!" Jack laughs.

"But is he?" Abigail asks, "Come on Emma, you can't not tell us what happened!"

"Did he flirt?" Ruby asks. Emma smirks.

"Of course he did."

"Was the room thick with sexual tension?" Jack teases softly, out of earshot from Grace and Gretel. Emma gasps in shock and shoves her younger sister away. "I'll take that as a yes!"

"Just get your shoes on," Emma snorts, digging through her trunk and pulling out a deep red ballgown with a plunging neckline outlined by golden lining.

Snow, in her lavender ballgown, twirls once, walking out onto their balcony with Aurora, dressed in a soft pink ballgown. Jack, dressed in a backless black gown borrowed from Emma, opens up the wardrobe with a delighted smile.

"Let's go!"

* * *

Finally picking the lock, Killian opens the door gently and squeezes through, shutting the door behind him. Looking up, his eyes widen.

The room is empty.

The girls' nightgowns lay strewn across the room, all of the drawers closed with the exception of a single wardrobe. Killian walks toward it slowly, not daring to believe that little voice in the back of his head telling him that something magical is going on.

"Impossible," he breathes, opening the wardrobe door.

He'll never doubt the impossible ever again.

In front of him is a small stone path, lit by twinkling lights and the moon. Closing the wardrobe door behind him, Killian looks around in awe. Lining the stone path are small flowers he has never seen before in his life, and butterflies flutter from flower to flower. He can faintly hear the sound of joyful music, and upon tearing his gaze from the path, spies a glimpse of dark red fabric.

He's got them.

He runs as stealthily as he can down the path, invisible to the girls, as they enter a dark forest. He glances around at the trees, which appear to be in a state of hideous decay. The leaves are black and the branches seem brittle. Their only light is from the moon.

Ahead of him, Emma takes the hands of Gretel and Grace, who seem to shrink into her for support.

"It's alright," Emma says softly, "We're almost there."

Almost where?

It appears suddenly as the princesses round a sharp turn, and Killian has to hold back an amazed gasp.

The trees have transformed. No longer are they black and ominous . . . they are made of pure silver. Pine trees and evergreens . . . all silver.

Their path is no longer dark, it is illuminated by the blue-ish moonlight reflecting off of the silver leaves and branches onto the girls, making them look as if they were daughters of the moon themselves.

Entranced, Killian doesn't mind where he is walking, and treads on a silver branch, which abruptly snaps. Ella freezes, looking back at him.

He doesn't dare move.

"Keep moving, Ella!" Emma calls glancing back over her shoulder. Blinking quickly as if to wake herself up from a dream, she turns and follows her sisters down the path. When they round another turn, Killian almost laughs in amusement at the sight in front of him.

Abrubtly, the forest of silver has transformed into a forest of gold. The type of trees transform- trees that once resembled evergreens now transform into oaks and maples. The cool light of the moon is now warmed into a glow as if coming from a thousand candles, and when Killian's eyes land on Emma, the sight that greets him takes his breath away.

Her hair, now all gathered to one side in tight curls, almost blends with the golden trees around her. She turns around to make sure some of her younger sisters are keeping up, and the gentle angles of her face, framed by her curls, stops Killian in his tracks.

She is astounding.

* * *

The next morning, Emma notices her shoes at the foot of her bed instead of beside it. She pays no heed and goes back to sleep as her father pounds on the bedroom door, demanding the girls get up.

"He seems awfully chipper this morning," whispers Ruby to Emma that morning at breakfast as she stares Killian Jones down. He notices, but cheerfully ignores her and chows down on the toast in front of him.

"It's just the fact he's not eating pirate rations for a change," Emma mutters dismissively, narrowing her eyes at Jones as he sends a wink her way.

"You talking about me, Princess?" he asks. The king sends a worried glance her way, no doubt expecting the response she would have given to previous suitors.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she murmurs, her eyes simmering. He smirks and doesn't reply. The king just looks on, astounded.

"Have you ever seen mermaids, Pirate?" Gretel asks. Emma, eyes wide, sends a scolding glance her way.

"You don't have to-" Snow begins, but Killian raises a hand.

"It's perfectly alright, lass," he says kindly, turning towards Gretel. "I have seen mermaids, sweetheart."

"Is it true that their hair is long and like silk?" Grace asks, grinning widely.

"Yes, lass, and they adorn their locks with seashells and pearls," Jones replies, "Much like these!" He pulls two small, iridescent pearls from his pocket and drops them in the two youngest princesses' hands. The girls squeal with excitement.

"What do you say, ladies?" the King asks, smiling.

"Thank you!' they say to Killian in unison, little giggles escaping in their elation.

"What else would you like to know?" Killian asks, shooting a quick glance Emma's way.

"Were they beautiful?" Gretel asks, eyes wide and sparkling. Killian grins.

"Not nearly as pretty as you, Princess," he replies easily, oozing with charm. Gretel giggles with delight, and smiles appear on all of the princess' faces . . . save one.

Emma must admit to herself that it is a challenge not to be pulled in by his charming smile and smooth words like the rest of her sisters, but now it is painfully clear that it is her job to remain sane.

She does not admit that it might be too late for herself already.

* * *

"You're sure you don't need any help there, Belle?" Abigail asks, eyebrows raised. Belle brushes her off and continues to tinker with the small pearl, which she is attempting to make into a necklace pendant for Grace and then Gretel.

"Pearls belong in the ocean," Emma mutters, walking over to the balcony and leaning against the edge, watching the stars. Eyes wandering downward, she resists the urge to groan as she catches sight of that damned pirate strolling through the palace gardens.

"You don't have to try and hide it, you know," comes a voice from behind her. Snow.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Emma mutters, watching Killian bend down and pluck a small wildflower from the grass with his one hand.

"You're attracted to him," Snow says softly, "Wouldn't it be easier to just . . . admit it and go from there?"

"Is that what you would do?" Emma asks. Snow opens her mouth to respond. "Well, I'm not you, Snow. And you are not my mother. So please, don't bring this up again." Snow looks stricken, and Emma just cannot deal with that at the moment, so she pushes past her sister, stumbles through her bedroom, and exits into the hallway. Shutting the door, she sinks down to the ground and takes several deep breaths.

_She's mistaken. You are not attracted to him. He is a pirate, only here for the throne that is your family's. He will not take everything from you. He will not take your heart. He will not-_

Desperate for fresh air, Emma leaps up and briskly walks through the palace corridors. She bursts through the garden doors and gulps in the air, eyes shut tight.

"Need some air?" She jumps as Jones emerges from behind a cherry blossom tree, eyes dark in the moonlight. "I know the feeling."

"Do you now?" Emma breathes, still unbalanced. "I actually wanted to be alone." He catches the hint, but ignores it, taking her hand in his hook and placing the wildflower in it.

"I'll give you something better," he replies. She arches an eyebrow.

"What, your company?"

"You're welcome."

She chooses not to dignify that comment with a response, rolling her eyes and walking, not surprised when she hears his lithe footsteps behind her.

"How is your investigation coming along?" she asks, sitting down on a bench.

"Your dress is lovely," he comments, ignoring her question and sitting down next to her. "The color red certainly suits you, your Highness."

"Skip the formalities," Emma says, "I hate them." His eyebrows arch in surprise, and he chuckles lightly, unaffected by her sharp tone.

"As you wish, Emma," he replies, her name oozing out of his mouth like honey. She looks over at him in surprise. "What? I'm merely doing as you command, _Emma_."

"Okay, go back to the formalities," she snaps, standing up. "God, you're insufferable."

"You love it," he tosses back, rising as well.

"You wish!"

"You're enjoying this and you know it." Emma snorts and begins to walk off. "I'll bet the hook on my hand that you've never had this much fun with any of the wankers that have come here before."

Emma doesn't reply, but allows herself a small, secret smile.

* * *

The next night, a silver leaf goes missing from a tree, and the cloaked figure smirks as he watches the eldest princess dance the night away.

* * *

"Rise and shine, Princess!" Emma awakes with a start and almost falls out of her bed. The sun streams through the curtain and she sees that most of her sisters are still fast asleep. Somehow, she knows that the wake-up call is meant for her. The damn accent.

She throws on a robe and slippers and rushes to the door, and upon seeing that her father has already unlocked it, cracks it open. She is greeted by the sight of Killian Jones clad in an unbuttoned white shirt and tight brown slacks.

"How long does it take to put on a robe?" he teases.

"Lower your voice," Emma snaps in a hushed tone. "You'll wake the girls."

"Then come with me," he offers with a wink. Emma rolls her eyes. "I'll ask again, if that's what it takes. Loudly."

"Fine, fine, just shut up!" Emma snaps. "Just . . . let me change."

"And miss the chance to see you in your nightgown?"

With a smirk, Emma swings the door open, giving him a very appealing view of her dress, and then slams it shut. Quietly, of course. If her sisters had seen that . . .

After changing into a breezy white gown and brushing her hair, Emma meets Killian at the door. He refuses to tell her where he's taking her, so while he briskly leads her through the corridors, she studies his face, glowing under the light of the early morning sun.

"Like what you see?" he asks, not even looking at her. Emma tears her gaze from his and lets her eyes wander shamelessly over his face. His eyes, which were so bright yesterday, now appear dimmed, and he's undoubtably exhausted. His eyes are framed by dark circles, and his eyelids threaten to shut at any moment. She frowns.

"You look tired," she deadpans.

"So do you," he shoots back, and she can't deny it.

"What have you been up to?" she asks, stopping. He turns around, unrepentant. Emma opens her mouth, then shuts it again, puzzled. Entirely and completely puzzled by this man, who seems onto her but entirely innocent at the same time. This man who is courting her when she quite literally might be the death of him. "What's your story?"

"You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

Emma rolls her eyes and gestures for him to continue on. He leads her outside, towards the stables. "I feel like a teenager again," she remarks with a light chuckle. "Sneaking out with-"

"A devilishly handsome rogue-"

"Some boy-" Emma continues, ignoring his interjection. They halt at the stable doors. "Daniel will recognize me," she warns. Jones ponders for a moment.

"I'll get your horse then. Which one is it?"

"The white one," she replies, "Her name is Swan." Jones arches an eyebrow at her curiously. "What? Seemed like a pretty name."

"I'll be right back, lass," Jones says with a wink, disappearing into the stables. He emerges with Swan and his horse, a jet black stallion with fire in his eyes, just like his master.

Feeling suddenly playful once sitting astride her horse, Emma looks over at Jones with a glint in her eyes."Fancy a race, Captain?" she asks.

"Anything you say, Princess," he replies, and without another word, the two are off at full gallop, rushing through open green fields with no direction, disrupting the peaceful morning harmonies of the birds with their exuberant laughter.

His laugh is more subdued than hers, as if it hasn't been used in a long, long while. Its echoes have a way of making her feel like his laugh is meant for her, and her only. And maybe it is. She hasn't seen him laugh like this with Mulan.

Then again, when has anyone laughed around her somber sister?

He finally halts to a stop near a willow tree at the top of a hill that offers a remarkable view of her kingdom, dismounting and helping her off of Swan, who nudges Emma with her muzzle before trotting off to join Jones' stallion to graze.

"I stayed here the night before I arrived at your castle," Jones reveals, "I knew not what to expect, so I slept very little. I just stared at the stars." Emma watches him for a long moment, eyes searching. Breaking their gaze, which was getting far too intense for her taste, she wades through the branches of the willow,

"My mother used to take me and my sisters to this hill when we were little. She took us here about a week before she died, right after little Gretel was born. We all danced together under the stars for hours while we all took turns singing and strumming the lyre she taught us how to play."

Killian wishes he could see her face, but the only sight he is granted is her (very attractive) silhouette.

"Your mother sounds like an amazing lass," he remarks.

"She was," Emma whispers, her voice lost in the breeze. "She really was." Jones joins her in the little shelter the willow's branches have created, and upon meeting his eyes, Emma suddenly remembers that after tomorrow, she will never see him again.

* * *

The bedroom falls silent when Emma shuffles through the door later that afternoon. Snow pushes her way over to Emma and crosses her arms.

"So."

Emma blinks. "So . . ."

"You and the pirate were missing from breakfast. And lunch. And court today," Snow says. "Any reason for that?"

"If there is, I don't think it's any of your business," Emma replies quickly.

"Emma, you can't fall in love with him," Astrid warns.

"If he hasn't figured us out, he's going to Wonderland tomorrow. You will never see him again. You know this," Jack adds.

"Last I checked," Emma snaps, "I was the oldest. And I know what I'm doing. And that is the last I'm going to say on the subject."

"You cannot tell him about us," Jack threatens, "You know the proclamation states that we cannot offer any assistance." Emma shuts her eyes in pain. In attempting to filter out undesirable men, her father may have just lost one of the few good ones.

* * *

That night, as Killian is preparing to leave for the princesses' room, he hears a knock on his door. Puzzled, he goes to answer, and is surprised to see Emma standing there, eyes slightly wild. Without a word, she shoves him back into his room and against a wall.

"Don't say a word," she hisses before diving for his mouth, hands reaching to unbutton his shirt.

He obeys. She is a princess, after all.

* * *

She sneaks out of his room an hour later as he pretends to sleep, and he throws on his cloak and follows her.

* * *

As the fourth day dawns, the twelve girls line up behind their father's throne with somber faces, eyes downcast and occasionally darting towards Emma, who refuses to meet any of their gazes. Her eyes are only for the man standing before her father's throne, looking rather confident for a man who will never see another sunrise in his homeland.

"Killian Jones," her father begins, his expectations evident in his weary voice.

"Captain," Emma mutters, eyes still locked with Killian's.

"Has your investigation yielded any results?" Still looking only at Emma, Killian smirks.

"Yes, your majesty, it has." Immediately, the court breaks into an uproar. The girls immediately crowd around a shell-shocked Emma, demanding to know if she told him anything at all. Emma can only hold his gaze with wide eyes and shake her head.

Once the king has regained control of his court and the girls have refrained to just muttering amongst themselves, he asks Killian what he found.

"The girls' wardrobe," Killian says, winking at Emma, who is beginning to look and feel quite unstable. "At night, the princesses dress in their finest ballgowns and walk through the wardrobe to another land that I am unfamiliar with. There, they dance to music played by unrememberable figures and feast. They return at dawn. I was able to follow them with my cloak, which made me invisible to the eye."

"Do you have any evidence to back this outlandish story?" the king asks, doubtful.

"Yes, your Majesty," Killian replies, reaching into his satchel. He pulls out a silver leaf, a golden leaf, and a diamond leaf. "The forests were made of magnificent treasures, sire. I only took what proof I needed." Finally, he pulls out a golden goblet and tosses it to Emma, who catches it with ease. "You drank from this last night." _Among other things. _"Do you remember? That is your lipstick, I believe."

She does not reply, handing the goblet to her father upon request.

"Do you girls deny this?" the King asks, turning to face the princesses. "Is this where you have been disappearing every night?"

Emma steps forward. "Yes, Father."

"Why did you never tell me?"

"We feared you would destroy the wardrobe." She sighs. "Father, we love you, but we were unhappy. There was no music, no dancing. I know it reminded you of Mother, but would she want this?"

"I will not discuss this now," the King says firmly, turning back to Killian. "As for you, it appears that you have solved the mystery. And for that, you may have your pick of my daughters. I ask that you choose wisely, for she will rule alongside you when you ascend to the throne." Killian turns to study the girls, but his answer is evident to them all.

"I choose Emma," he says without hesitation. Emma rolls her eyes and walks to stand beside him, still shocked.

* * *

_Five years later . . ._

Queen Emma, regal as ever, dismisses the court with a wave of her hand. Her sisters make their way back to their room, though Emma notices Snow turning to walk with Prince David. Ruby makes a beeline towards the kitchen to visit Peter, and then a large smile appears on her face.

Her Captain walks through the doors, finally home from an expedition with her navy. Ever since abdicating his right to the throne and handing it over to Emma, her husband has been kept very busy with keeping their kingdom safe. He is scarcely home, but when he is with her, the Queen finds it difficult to ever not be in his arms.

He bows mockingly when he reaches her throne. "Majesty," he greets, rising with his signature smirk.

"Captain," she returns with an eye roll. "What news do you have for me?"

"The news can wait," he brushes off, advancing towards her and pulling her up from her throne. "I want my reward first."

"I'll consider it," Emma murmurs, "How about we negotiate in our chambers?"


End file.
